


Artificial

by LarissaFae



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Babies, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarissaFae/pseuds/LarissaFae
Summary: Between the two of them, their children would be brilliant.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lacrossedeamon on the HZD subreddit is entirely to blame for this.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Sylens' shrug was more of a shoulder twitch and slight eye roll. "Take it or leave it. Between the two of us, our progeny would be exceptionally suited to continue our work."

"Ok, no." Aloy stepped back and shook her head. "No. I'm only working with you because _you_ decided that knowledge was worth more to you than all life. I'm only cleaning up _your_ mess. You're not in this to improve life for anyone other than yourself. It's not happening."

He slid a finger along the dusty surface of an artificial womb and then rubbed the dust off. "I'm not asking you to go to bed with me, Aloy. We can get one of these working. You needn't risk your health or stop your work on restoring GAIA."

"I'm cutting off your access to my Focus next," Aloy muttered. From a purely rational, cold, inhuman point of view, what he was suggesting made sense. "I don't want to be a mother yet. I've got too much to do. My life is too dangerous. The artificial wombs get rid of the need for pregnancy and childbirth, but _someone_ would need to raise the child, and I'm not leaving that to the Nora."

She got a faint snort. "And well you shouldn't. Something could be arranged. Without a pregnancy, no one would even know it was yours. I'm sure that the Sun-King would enjoy a child around the palace - I hear he's quite taken with the dowager queen's new child."

Aloy's sigh of disgust was long and long-suffering. "You leave him out of my life. If I have to break off _one more _engagement for him, I'm going to scream."__

__"He _would_ ensure that the child had the best education possible, in addition to what we could provide." A faint chime sounded, and Aloy turned to the exit. "Go eat. I'll finish up here. Just ... consider it."_ _

__"I'll consider my spear up your ass," was her grumble as she stalked out of the room and toward the entrance to the Cradle, where Varl was supervising the food that the Nora left them, too afraid to enter the womb of the mountain itself._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumpy hermit Aloy is the best Aloy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your official permission to pester me about updating this, because I am bad at it, and these chapters should be relatively short so it should be relatively easy.
> 
>  
> 
> (plz pester the author, it makes her feel warm and fuzzy)

It had been a long fall - one she hadn’t intended to make, and one that had left her with a broken arm. Aloy had had to search long and hard for records on how the Ancients had healed broken bones, setting it herself after her Focus had assured her that it was only a minor break, and then had spent another week trying to figure out the mostly-broken medical equipment at GAIA Prime. She hadn’t wanted to use it, but without the use of her arm, she was stuck in the mountain indefinitely. It had taken even longer to get the equipment working, but as she’d settled her arm in it and turned it one, relief had been almost immediate. An hour a day for a week, then every other day for a week, then every two days for a week, then twice a week, until - twelve weeks after her initial fall - she was almost back to the full use of it. It had let her dig into GAIA more, at least, and if Sylens hadn’t shown up around week two, she might have enjoyed the respite. Instead she spent her days stomping around and being crabby at him. He refused to be harassed into leaving, and if she was honest in the dark bottom of the cellar of her heart of hearts, she was grateful to have his assistance. He brought back real food, not artificial crap that was over a thousand years old and probably poisoning her. He kept Sweat Pea company when the cries of the Watcher got too bothersome and she sent him out to her. He didn’t bring up the suggestion of them having a child.

Aloy made a face as she hung up more tarp to keep the snow out. She didn’t know which was worse - the thought of producing a child the traditional way, or the thought of essentially cloning themselves into one being. A tiny, wriggling, helpless being that she would be directly responsible for. Aloy could handle being responsible for the entire world - each individual person just vaguely blurred into the next. But a baby was a solid thing, always there, a definite responsibility. She guessed she could give it to Avad. Blameless Marad had mentioned something about him needing an heir the last time they’d spoken, as she’d been teaching him how to use some of the more complex functions of the Focus she’d found. Avad had outright refused to take it, delegating the task of keeping in touch with her to Marad, but he was always more than happy to have Marad project her image for him so he could speak with her, himself. At least he’d stopped apologizing for propositioning her. He may or may not have dropped some subtle hints that he would still like to keep that option open, but Aloy had deliberately refused to asked him to clarify. Aside from the fact that she wasn’t interested, the Carja would no more take a Nora queen than they would take an Oseram one, and she wasn’t going to be his … how had Travis Tate put it … his side chick. That was it.

“Do you realize that you talk to yourself out loud?”

Aloy jumped a bit and glared over her shoulder at Sylens, but he was holding a tray of hot food and drinks, so she didn’t argue. She could tolerate a lot from people who fed her. Erend had mentioned once that it was a trait she shared with his late sister. He spent his time alternating between replacing Ersa with her and trying to woo her. He was bad at both. Aloy deliberately refused to take any of _his_ hints, as well. She followed Sylens into the facility and to the room that held Elisabet’s memorial, and was almost finished with her meal before she spoke.

“I want a Stormbird.”

Sylens raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think that one would fit in here.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, as a way to get up here without having to climb. I got Sweat Pea to take directions from me - I can probably do the same to a Stormbird. We’ve got all the …”

“Schematics,” he supplied helpfully.

Aloy wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Those. It would take a while, but it would be better than, I don’t know, falling and killing myself.”

“Yes, what _would_ the world do without you?”

“Die,” she told him flatly. “What would the world do without _you?_ Oh, right - not need _me_ to save it.”

He took a drink from his mug and just looked at her. He was even more obnoxious in the flesh. “Hades would have found a way to get to the Spire - any of them - with or without me.”

“You didn’t have to _help.”_

“As we have been over this before, I find no reason to discuss it further.”

He was calm and collected and Aloy wanted to throw her own mug at him, but it was still half full of whatever ‘hot chocolate’ was - which was delicious. “I want a Stormbird,” she repeated.

“And I want to meet an actual Ancient.” She grumbled to herself and he leaned back in his chair. “Or was that a request for me to find one for you?”

“Get out of my home,” she muttered.

Sylens laughed, a small puff of air. “If you’re quite well enough to get around on your own, then I will go find you another machine for you to name something ridiculous and spend your days petting.”

Aloy raised a finger. “I don’t give machines ridiculous names.” She held up another finger. “I _can’t_ pet Sweet Pea because I can’t _get_ to her, because I’m still healing. I want a real bridge before I try climbing. Get one of those while you’re out, too. The Stormbird can help.”

He stood with a faint sigh. “As you wish. What will you name it?”

She’d been considering Bird-Face. “None of your business.”

Sylens shook his head a bit and walked to the exit. “Very well. Try not to fall to your death while I’m gone.”

He left Aloy to her solitude and silence and work, and she spent the next week slowly rebuilding her atrophied arm muscles and figuring out how difficult it would be to reprogram the Stormbird’s more complex systems.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aloy's life was easier before she knew she was the only one capable of saving the world.

Welding was fun - no wonder the Oseram liked tinkering with metal so much. Petra would _love_ to learn how to do it. If Aloy could figure out an easy source of fuel to replace whatever the Ancients had used, she could probably bring her friend some welding equipment - or maybe the plans for some, and let Petra figure out the rest. Petra would flirt as she looked everything over, Aloy would deflect it, Petra would give her food - they would all have a good time. Aloy turned the welding machine off, flipped up her safety visor, and stepped back to consider her makeshift bridge. She’d started it herself, since Sylens seemed in no hurry to come back. It seemed sturdy enough. She knocked on it, then jiggled it a bit. It _might_ not break and send her plummeting to her doom. Probably.

Faint, frantic trilling and chirping reached her as she turned off Travis’ death metal files. The music wasn’t _actually_ that bad, in a way. The steady, pounding beat let her keep good time in whatever she was doing, and the growling voice of the vocalist was usually distorted enough to be background noise. Aloy set the welding helmet on the ground and wiped at her forehead as she started setting the bridge up to tip it across the break in the lone hallway linking both sides of GAIA Prime together.

“I’m fine!” she yelled across the chasm, where Sweet Pea’s eye was flickering between yellow and red. “Sweet Pea, I’m fine! I’ll be over soon!” The poor thing was going to overload her circuits. Aloy tapped her Focus and brought up the visual link so the Watcher could see her. The holographic image of the machine popped into existence, head pulling up sharply in sudden confusion before the eye started to cycle between yellow and blue. She chirped again and hopped a little, then did that stupidly adorable jump-roll to the side before trying to bump against Aloy’s hand. Her eye turned yellow in alarm and she let out a warble of distress when she couldn’t make contact. Aloy sighed. “I know, Sweet Pea, I know. I’m not really there. I’m trying, ok?” She leaned her shoulder against the bridge, hoped it wouldn’t break the entire tunnel, and started shoving. “Here … we … go!”

The entire hallway shifted and Sweet Pea shrieked in alarm as the bridge fell over, but when the snow settled, the bridge was resting across the gap and no one was dead. Yet. Aloy brushed herself off with a satisfied nod before picking the welding equipment up again. It was getting towards dusk, and Sweet Pea would cry all night, now, if Aloy didn’t make it over there. She welded the bridge to the hallway as best she could and then hurried back into GAIA Prime to gather some food and her sleeping roll. Her arm was hurting enough that it would be best to stay the night with Sweet Pea in the little alcove she’d made for the Watcher under some rocks. Aloy didn’t know if machines needed sleep or got cold, but she didn’t want Sweet Pea to be uncomfortable.

All in all, it took an hour before Aloy was dropping down to the ground for the first time in a few months, and she was immediately pinned against the rock of the mountain by an over-enthusiastic Watcher insistent on her wires and cables being rubbed. She laughed and obliged for a bit before gently pushing Sweet Pea away, keeping on hand on her blue tubing as they walked to the alcove in the dark. “I missed you, too. Let me make a fire.” She’d found some substance that was similar to blaze, but burned longer and through the rain and snow. Aloy adjusted the sides of the alcove to make sure she didn’t get dumped on in the night, and leaned back against Sweet Pea after the Watcher had curled up on the ground and she’d started heating up the stew she’d brought. “What do you think?” she finally asked. She got a faint, questioning chirp. Sweet Pea’s cables were warm to the touch as Aloy traced a finger down them. “I almost died. I can’t trust Sylens to put GAIA back together. But I can’t take care of a child. I don’t … It doesn’t seem right, to make a child just to continue your own legacy. That’s why Elisabet stopped the Lightkeeper Protocol. I mean, GAIA cloned me - cloned Elisabet - but that was necessary, wasn’t it?” She rubbed her sore arm. “Children should be wanted for themselves, not just because they’ll keep a family line going, or make sure you can keep saving the world. But if _I_ die, there’s no one left. I’m not even sure anything less than another clone will be able to access the subfunctions, or get into GAIA Prime. And Sylens is holding out on me - as usual. He’s up to something. As usual.” She turned her cheek and rubbed it against the soft blue blanket that she’d made for Sweet Pea, to keep the cold out. The sleeping roll was made specifically for that purpose - how it kept her warm, she had no idea. Sweet Pea chirruped and nudged the pot of stew. Aloy gave it a stir. “And if we _did_ … reproduce … there’s no guarantee that she’d be as intelligent as either of us, unless we … programmed … her that way. Children shouldn’t be programmed.” She had to dish up the stew with her off-hand, and stared at her arm as she ate. It had been a terrifying fall. She wasn’t sure how she’d crawled away with only a broken arm. “I can’t put GAIA back together if I’m dead. I don’t know if she’ll need … need maintenance or anything after she is. I don’t know how long it will take.”

Aloy zipped up her sleeping roll with a sigh and snuggled against Sweet Pea, listening to the wind howl as she tried to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aloy starts to make a decision.

“--- so I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be. I probably can’t make the Solstice Festival.”

Talanah was clearly disappointed, but nodded. “Oh, we understand. We’re just happy whenever you can visit. And you _are_ alright out there, by yourself? I can come help, if you like. I refuse to leave my Thrush vulnerable.”

Aloy laughed a little and pulled up a reference file, hesitantly typing in code with two fingers. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Unless you know where this place is, you won’t find it - it’s too remote for bandits. Besides, I’m … fortifying … my defenses.” Talanah kept glancing to the side, and Aloy finally noticed. “Do you need to go? Does Avad want a turn? He can talk to me, too, you know - you would just need to squeeze in a bit for the camera to get both of you.”

Talanah raised an eyebrow with the sort of patient exasperation that said Aloy was completely missing some crucial minutiae of Carja culture. “I was pulled out of bed in the middle of the night and hustled to the palace, to the king’s personal quarters. Being summoned so late at night is going to start rumors - the later I am getting back, the more rumors there will be. And …” She glanced around again, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And you just suggested that I cuddle up to the Sun-King in order for both of us to talk to you - that I possibly touch him.” Aloy snorted and Talanah sighed. “We both dislike our respective cultures’ ways, Aloy, but unlike yourself, _I_ actually grew up in mine. I will leave it to you to cause the sort of scandal that would arise from casually touching the Sun-King.”

“He’s just a man,” Aloy muttered. “He could use a friend.”

“Yes, the most _important_ man in the Sundom.” Her friend sat back and cleared her throat. “Regardless, I do need to go. Send word when you head this way, and we can go hunting. And possibly do … this … again, at a more convenient time for everyone.”

“Aloy has no concept of other people needing to sleep,” was Avad’s good-natured response in the background.

She huffed. “I call when I can. Hunting sounds relaxing - I’ll let Avad know when I’m headed back. Talk to you later.” Talanah murmured a farewell and her image faded out as she got up, and after a minute or so Avad appeared again. “Anything else?”

“What did you tell her? She seemed … a little off.”

That got rolled eyes. “Apparently suggesting you maybe, _possibly_ touch each other in order for you both to talk to me at once is just too scandalous. I’m sure you wouldn’t have to get _that_ close.”

Avad covered her eyes and his shoulders shook with laughter. “I … I see. I will talk with her.”

“And what, explain that I’m an uncivilized savage?” Aloy asked, full of sarcasm. “She already knows.”

“I did not say that, Aloy. You simply have little knowledge of - and even less concern for - Carja ways. I admit, it’s refreshing.” Aloy raised an eyebrow and paused in her attempts at coding. The corners of Avad’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I don’t necessarily want to be hugged every time I leave my rooms, but a little more … casual touching … from others would be nice.”

“You need a pet.” He laughed, but didn’t deny it, and Aloy shrugged. “Alright, go back to bed. It’s midnight. Your godly sun powers are probably at their weakest right now.”

He nodded. “Probably. Stay safe, Aloy.”

“Yeah, you, too.” She disconnected and took another hour to finish coding what would hopefully be a patch to keep Sylens out of her Focus. He wasn’t allowed on what it called her “friends list.” He wasn’t allowed anywhere near her, if she could help it. A monitor across the room bleeped and she got up, stabbing at it with both hands to wake it up. The system had learned what her gestures - different than the ones it was used to - meant and had adapted to them, even though once in awhile a small box would pop up with a ‘helpful’ reminder of the appropriate hand commands to use. The screen showed a recreation of the signal that had freed GAIA’s subsystems, and the program had found the general area above the world that the signal had come from, one of the ‘satellites’ that orbited the planet. It hadn’t found the exact one, though. Not yet. Aloy frowned and tapped a few keys. She needed to find that particular satellite, then find out if the signal had come from somewhere else on the planet, or outside of it. Far Zenith had allegedly - _allegedly_ \- exploded, taking an early version of APOLLO with it. The data logs were clear that an explosion had been recorded, not that the signal had just gone silent. “Is it possible to have faked that data?” she muttered. “If Far Zenith survived … but why fake the explosion? Why let everyone think all those people died? And why would they wake up HADES? They could have just … come back. Why try to wipe out all life again?”

All life … Aloy stopped at Elisabet’s shrine on her way to bed and lingered, listening to the tributes from the other Alphas. She listened to the story of the tree fire. She rubbed her broken arm. An empty pit settled in her stomach and gradually filled with queasiness. Sylens had a point about their combined intelligence - but if she wanted to guarantee a brilliant child, she could just clone Elisabet again, and not have to worry about Sylens’ contributions. She’d seen that the intelligence of the parents didn’t necessarily indicate the intelligence of their children, after all. But he _was_ an intelligent man. She didn’t want him anywhere near any of her hypothetical children. Not without her being there. Cloning - or whatever they would do to have a child - would be easier than having sex, getting pregnant, and giving birth. She would have roughly nine months to do other things, as well, but …

Aloy sighed. “If you want me agree to … create … a kid,” she muttered, “we need to have a long discussion about it.”

She was almost asleep when Sylens’ voice whispered through her Focus. “I will return within the week.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aloy gets a new pet and talks child rearing.

She and Sweet Pea were playing soccer when Sylens arrived. Or was it football? She’d listened to the argument between Travis and Charles about it, and it seemed similar to the games any child played - get a round ball and kick it around. Aloy wasn’t sure anyone had ever had as dramatic an opponent as hers, though. Whenever she scored a goal, Sweet Pea did her stupid jump-roll and stayed on her back, kicking her spindly legs in the air and honking in protest as she tossed her head side to side. Whenever the Watcher scored or blocked her, she did what Aloy could only describe as a victory dance - jumping in precisely two circles as she honked and trilled with glee, sidestepping twice in either direction, then rolling once before jumping back up and thrashing her tail around in excitement.

“You’re a sore loser,” she called as Sweet Pea threw another fit. She wondered if constant interaction with a human, as well as being linked to her Focus, had taught the Watcher her absurd behavior. She wondered if that reflected poorly on her own behavior. She decided that that was a ridiculous line of thought and looked up as what she’d thought was a bird in the distance got a lot larger. “Hey, stupid. Is that Sylens?”

Sweet Pea was hopping onto the leather-wrapped steel ball, falling off, warbling to herself in irritation, and trying again, utterly shocked each time she inevitably failed to balance on it. It took a few tries to get her to look up, and Aloy had to take her by her head and point her in the direction of the incoming Stormbird. She bobbed her head a little, chirped, then nuzzled along Aloy’s hand until it was buried in the glowing blue cables of her neck. Aloy sighed and shifted the cables around, unsticking them from where the cold had frozen them together, warming them with her touch. Unless someone else had managed to figure out how to override machines, the Stormbird was with Sylens, on his way back to … talk. About … children.

She was out of her damn mind to accept his proposal. She wouldn’t have to have sex with him - a small mercy demolished by her subconscious at night - but she couldn’t guarantee she was going to live long enough to put GAIA back together. And without Lis’ DNA - _her_ DNA - no one would be able to get into GAIA Prime or Faro’s headquarters. Aloy looked up as the Stormbird settled delicately onto the outcropping that Sweet Pea slept under and dipped its nose to poke at the ball, which made Sweet Pea herself shriek in alarm and rush over to protect it. The ‘bird squawked at her as she hopped around it, eye yellow with alarm, shrieking her warning. Aloy watched them bicker for a moment before rubbing the bridge of her nose.

 _“Stop it!”_ They both paused and turned to her, and Sylens appeared on the path atop a Strider, supplies strapped to it. “Stop fighting, you idiots.” Sweet Pea took the ‘bird’s distraction as the opportunity to swipe the ball and kick it back over to Aloy, hiding behind the red-head and grumbling to herself. “It took you long enough.”

“You can get your own supplies, next time,” was the calm reply as Sylens rode past her.

She wanted to throw a rock at his head. Instead, Aloy picked up the ball and followed him. “We’re not having sex.”

“It may come as a shock to you, Aloy, but not _everyone_ wants to go to bed with you.” It did, a little. Just a little. Aloy rolled her eyes at the back of his head as they walked. “I never had any intention of bedding you if it could be helped. I’m over twice your age. I find that … distasteful.”

“I don’t know if someone who’s … half Lis … is going to be able to do anything useful,” Aloy went on, like he’d never spoken. “Everything important is gene-locked. Fifty percent might not cut it.”

“And I have considered that, but unless you’re willing to clone yourself, this is what we have.” He shrugged. “I admit, I have no idea if the DNA used to clone Elisabet is still around, or even useful if it is. I’m curious as to whether or not using _your_ DNA - all ninety-nine point forty-seven percent that’s Elisabet’s - to create a child would degrade the genetic code further. Would it drop to ninety-nine percent? Would cloning _that_ clone drop it even further? Would ---”

“Jesus _Christ,_ you’re talking about _children,_ not _things,”_ Aloy snapped.

Sylens looked over his shoulder with a frown. “Jesus Christ?”

She shrugged. “Lis says it a lot. Said it a lot. I think it’s like saying ‘by the Sun’ or ‘holy All-Mother.’ Or something.” She huffed as she helped Sylens unload the Strider at the start of the climb into GAIA Prime. “It doesn’t matter. You’re talking about children like they’re objects - tools. I don’t like it.” Sylens took a breath and opened his mouth, looked over his shoulder again at her, then just let out his breath and started climbing. “I want to get as much information from all the Focuses we can find as possible. It won’t replace APOLLO, but it’ll be _something.”_

“Better access to your Focus would help with that.”

So her clumsy coding had worked. Aloy grinned. “File-sharing is a thing. I’ve set up a central location to download information to. That way we can look through it and put together learning materials. I’ve found some Focuses with … less than educational material on them.” Well, the sex videos and pictures _had_ been educational, but not suitable for children. She slipped ahead of him and let the door scan her, then turned and raised one finger with narrowed eyes. “Wipe your feet off before entering my home.” Sylens looked down, where there was nothing on which to wipe his feet, but dutifully shuffled them a bit. Aloy nodded and waved him in. “I found the files for Stormbirds. I think a permanent override will be easy. I was trying to design a harness ---”

“You flying in on a Stormbird,” Sylens murmured. “I can just imagine.”

“--- but I’ll probably ask Erend or Teb to help. If I can get them up here. I can just bring them a schematic.” She’d been working on getting more ramps and stairs in place, and watched Sylens test one. He nodded and put his full weight on it. “I want the child to spend time with all the tribes - they all have things to offer, good things. Meridian is the most protected, so they can stay there when I can’t be with them.”

“Do I not get a say in the education of my own child?”

Aloy scoffed and lifted her chin. “You’re having a child with a Nora woman. I have the final say in everything.”

He finally set his pack down in the dining and kitchen area and gave her a dark look. “You’re only Nora when it suits you.”

She spread her hands out with a shrug. “Do you want to fight about it?”

Sylens let out another long sigh as they started unpacking. “No. You have Elisabet’s genetics, Aloy - I trust you to do right by anyone in your care.”

Well, at least _someone_ had confidence in her parental abilities. Aloy put a small bottle on the tip of her nose and tried to balance it, weaving back and forth. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. So, when are we doing this?”

He snatched the bottle away. “As soon as possible.”

“Well, let me get the ‘bird set up and find a way to sneak Sweet Pea into The Embrace.” Aloy’s heart was pounding, now. She was going to have to be a mother. It made sense, and this was the easiest way, but … She coughed. “Yeah, we can leave in a couple days. I’m going to bed.” She walked off before Sylens could answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was _supposed_ to be a reluctant, non-sexual Aloy/Sylens reproduction story, but let's be real, it's actually about the glorious friendship between Aloy and Sweet Pea.


End file.
